


Work it Out

by fondofit



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Crossdressing, Lingerie, M/M, mention of Clarus/Regis, mention of Cor/Regis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 16:04:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9664598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fondofit/pseuds/fondofit
Summary: Cor and Clarus spend a little time bonding.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The working title for this was Cor Hood: Men in Tights.

Cor can’t remember the circumstances of when they first became interested in each other. It had been years ago and honestly, it didn’t really matter in the end. All he can say is right now, Clarus is currently standing closely behind him, impeding his personal space. He can almost feel the grumble of his friend’s voice as he says something innocuous about the gathering they were all attending. Sure, Regis is front and center, but he’s at a casual meeting with a group of his own trusted men. It was more like a luncheon rather than the dire meeting they all expected it to be.

“Any livelier and we’d might as well go dancing in the streets.”

Cor snorts, a grin spreading across his face. He had made small talk with a couple of stuffed-up, councilmen earlier and despite it being lively social gathering, Cor was still on duty in his mind. 

“I take it this isn’t your type of soiree, Clarus?”

“Hardly, but it looks like Regis is finally enjoying himself,” Clarus says and Cor doesn’t need to comment on that statement. These past few months have been tumultuous for Regis and his son. They will take the little pleasures for the man when they can. Cor means to turn to speak with Clarus face to face, but stops himself when he realizes he should keep an eye on his King, glancing towards the center of the room where the man in question is chatting happily with another diplomat. “And yourself? How have you been?”

The question takes Cor by surprise. He didn’t expect Clarus to ask him about himself. Sure, they had worked well together in the past, he considered Clarus to be a good friend, but there was always a difference between work and pleasure. He had never thought Clarus would be interested in his life outside of Citadel and it had been a long time since he had .

“As well as I could be, I guess.” Cor pauses, watching as Regis moves from one person to another. “Can’t say I’ve had the opportunity to really do much other than stand around being a wallflower. Things have been… well.”

“Good.” Clarus says with such finality that Cor’s not sure if the conversation was over or not. 

There’s something that crosses Clarus's face, his brow furrows just slightly before leaning forward and speaking softly near Cor’s ear. “Would you care to spar sometime tomorrow?”

Cor nearly flinches as he allows himself to take his focus away from the King to turn it towards Clarus's voice. He takes a half step back when he realizes how close his friend’s face was to his. In the back of his mind, he wonders who’s looking their way and if Regis could see how close his Shield was standing next to his Marshal. He replies with, “Of course,” as he turns his head away. He can feel his heart racing as the heat of Clarus's body leaves his side. 

“I’ll see you there at 2200 hours then.” 

Clarus drops a firm hand on his shoulder as he walks off towards Regis, politely standing by the his side as the conversations continue. Cor stands still at attention, absently watching as the people in the room continue to mingle. He feels relief wash over him when he realizes no one had noticed their peculiar conversation.

It had been a long, long time since Clarus and him had spoken outside of meetings or sparred together. Cor smiles to himself thinking this was something he could look forward to. 

\---

Cor’s body hums with energy as he awaits Clarus's next move. Over an hour into their sparring session and they decided that hand to hand combat would probably be the best way to end the evening. He knows his body will be sporting bruises in the morning; at least one on his abdomen from the direct hit of Clarus's palm. But there is also the deep satisfaction that Clarus is also sporting a good welt on his bicep from a practice sword swing he was unable to block in time. He smiles, wrapped up in the moment, this was the type of fighting Cor reveled in. The type of fight where he could push himself to the limit against someone just as skilled. Yes, demon hunting on the side was satisfying, but there was nothing that could replace the thrill of an opponent that could live, breathe and work alongside you. 

There was also the thrill that Clarus was a man to be reckoned with. Cor may have been called Marshal because of his title and his service, but Clarus was called the King’s Shield for more than just being a guardian to his majesty. Clarus was the epitome of strength as well as an example of what Insomnia was capable of. He was awe-inspiring in offense and just as amazing in his defensive skills. And when he holds his stance, Cor can feel the adrenaline rush he gets from the anticipation of fighting Clarus.

A quick step towards Cor and Clarus is making a grab towards his left arm. Cor responds in kind by falling into the grab and pulling the other man’s body in towards him. He can feel the heat off the Clarus's body and he adjusts his stance to turn the move into his advantage. One more match and they agreed that it would be the end of their session for the night, but this one was riding on a friendly wager. One the winner would decide at the end. 

Cor can tell that Clarus is hyper aware of each and every move he makes. He mentally curses as he watches Clarus easily pull himself out of the hold and swiftly sweeps at his legs. Cor feels the impact of the ground under his back, a dull ache from the fall, he looks up at Clarus, who is holding him by the scruff of his shirt’s neckline. The look in his eyes dare Cor to make the next move. 

They’re both breathing heavily by the time Cor concedes. Clarus grins down at him, satisfied with this victory, but, oddly enough, he doesn’t make a move to change their positions. 

“Cor.”

As Clarus's voice reaches his ears, Cor can immediately feel his body react to the heat and adrenaline running through him. Cor wants to push him over and pin him to the ground.

“How about we make a wager?”

Cor can feel the slight strain in his throat when he replies with a breathless, “Wager?”

“Less of a bet and more of a challenge.” Clarus explains. He’s about to lean away when Cor’s moves to grip onto Clarus's sleeveless arm, effectively keeping him from moving away.

“Go on.”

Cor can feel his breath catch as Clarus leans in just a bit lower; his lips grazing the shell of Cor’s ear. He doesn't expect the sharp nip to his ear. His body twitching in surprise. Cor wasn't expecting this to come out of the sparring session, but he wasn’t about to stop it either. The last time Clarus had garnered his attention in this way was so long ago, Cor merely welcomed the closeness.

“I want you to meet me here tomorrow for another sparring match, _but_ -” Clarus's growls the word out, the grip on Cor’s shirt tugging just a little in emphasis. “I want you to surprise me with something. I want to make it interesting.”

Cor smiles, of course he'd want another match. He closes his eyes when he feels Clarus's nose brush against his cheek. “I take this as you want to make it challenging for the both of us?”

There was a sudden rush of cool air as Clarus moved back, if only to sit back on his heels. Cor noticed the slight flush to the man’s face the aftermath of their close proximity and sparring match. Clarus held out a hand which Cor took to pull himself off the ground, the ache of a good fight starting to edge into his bones. Cor can't help but notice that Clarus looks him over, a haughty smile upon his face.

“I have faith in your creativity, Marshal.”

\---

It’s almost noon and Cor’s thoughts are going a mile a minute. He mulls over the sparring session, the feeling of having Clarus so close to him, the prospect of another meeting between them looming overhead. He was a little surprised that Clarus was interested with picking up a part of their relationship they had left behind, forgotten in the past. And with the ache burning in his arms and legs from last night’s workout, the reminder of how satisfying it was to fight someone with his own skill set, Cor looks forward to this evening. 

The only issue being that he hadn’t come up with an acceptable challenge yet..

At lunch, he decides to take a walk around the Citadel, to take in his surroundings, maybe clear his mind a little in order to come up with a proper challenge. He greets guards and other officials with a stiff nod as he passes by, keeping his eyes ahead and mulling over his options. It’s not until he hears heels clacking on the tiled floor and Monica’s friendly, “Good Afternoon, sir.” when something clicks in his mind. He’s caught so off guard with the thought that he almost forgets to respond.

“Something the matter, sir?”

It takes him a second to respond, the shock apparent on his face, “Yes, but I think I’ve just had an epiphany thanks to you.”

Monica smiles turning to walk towards her destination. “Well then, I’m glad I could help, sir. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

With a nod and a wave, Cor starts walking towards the entrance of the Citadel, pulling out his phone and making a quick call. He, thankfully, still has time to get what he needs. 

\---

He should be nervous, but instead Cor is anticipating Clarus's arrival. He wants to see, at first, Clarus's reaction. Would he be shocked? Angry? Maybe even aroused? He could only imagine what his friend would say to a challenge of this sort. So in preparation Cor arrives early to the sparing room, making sure everything is just how he wants it to be. As he sits in the chair in the middle of the room he looks down at his legs, the sheer material clings to him like a second skin. It’s a new, different, but not unwelcome sensation. From his legs his gaze moves down to the new shoes donning his feet. This, Cor suspects, will be what will surprise Clarus the most. But to move with precision and swiftness in shoes like these, this is what will be the challenge. He adjusts the hem of his white tank top as he waits. 

Right on schedule, the door of the room opens with a slight creak, pulling Cor from his thoughts. He looks towards the entrance, sitting with his legs spread in the chair. For all the confidence and cleverness Cor assumed he had, he doubted himself for just a moment when he realizes Clarus has frozen in place. Cor watches as the other man slowly closes the door behind him and the sound of the lock that follows echoes in the silence of the room. Clarus stares; his face, oddly enough, doesn’t give anything away.

“You said you wanted a challenge.” Cor’s voice cuts through the quiet. He places his foot on the box resting at the foot of the chair and kicks it in Clarus's direction.

“Cor.” Clarus voice comes out like a growl from across the room. He’s still staring at Cor from across the room, the box bumping off his boot. 

Cor doesn’t stand, he adjusts his footing instead, the pronounced heels of his shoes clacking on the hardwood surface. He tilts his head to the side, trying to gauge Clarus's reaction. He decides an explanation might be in order. “You had said you wanted a challenge to make our session a bit more interesting. And you said you trusted my judgement with this.”

His voice must have awoken some part of Clarus, since he snaps out of his daze to look down at the box at his feet. He kneels down to take the box in hand and opens the box’s cover. By the small paper insert, Cor can see that Clarus recognizes the name. The box came from a small local shop not far from the Citadel; neither men giving the establishment a second thought as they passed by it almost daily. When he takes the top off, he’s faced with a pair of high heels; black suede, four inch cone heels with an ankle strap. From the note the proprietor placed in the box, they were part of a special collection. The heels were layered on top of a pair of sheer black stockings, much like the ones Cor currently wore minus the lacy garter belt.

“The stockings aren’t required,” Cor says, his eyes fixated on Clarus. The man seemed to be at a loss for words, taking a shoe out with one hand and studying it on all sides. “But I thought I’d give you the option if you’d like.”

“Marshall.” Clarus's voice sounds anything, but amused, but that’s what Cor wanted. He’s here for a fight and this was his challenge. Cor stands, immediately feeling the extra height in his step and the pressure on his calves. He stands in attention, watching as Clarus eyes him from top to bottom. “You- “ Clarus stops in the middle of what he is about to say, mulling the words over in his head. He chuckles deep in the back of his throat, Cor finds himself smiling back. “Let me start again.”

Cor can only wait for him to pull his thoughts together.

“Do you really think I have the legs for stockings?”

Cor doesn’t know if he should sigh in relief or laugh at the answer. “Do you want me to be honest?”

The box is placed on the ground as Clarus begins to remove his shoes. He had already arrived in basic training garb, a pair of sweatpants and a military grade t-shirt. At first, he tries on the shoes for size. Cor notices his surprise when they fit. “I asked Iris for your shoe size. For obvious reasons, I didn’t go into detail, but I did say it was for a gift. Just in case she asks.”

Clarus shakes his head in disbelief, “And your answer?”

“I think you’re shortchanging yourself, Amicitia. Stockings would definitely look striking on you.”

A loud snort of laughter comes from the King’s Shield as he pulls off his socks and sweatpants. “I guess I fell into that one. I did say I trusted your judgement.” 

Cor tries not to stare as Clarus rolls the stockings up one leg and then the other. The man hums in consideration. His legs are incredibly muscular as they show stretching the sheer dark nylon material, he admires them for a minute before asking, “No garter belt?”

“I wasn’t sure…”

“But you don’t mind it?”

“No, not at all.” Cor says. “Hold on.”

Cor moves back towards his things and after a little digging, pulls out the garment. He tosses it over towards Clarus, following after it with a clack of his heels. Clarus begins pulling up the garter belt, clipping the stockings in place with an odd kind of ease. He finishes by putting on the heels, making him a good few inches taller than Cor, despite the Marshal’s current lift.

“Comfortable?” Cor asks, watching with a sharp eye. Clarus nods, turning to walk around in his new shoes, getting a feel for how they reacted on the practice room’s flooring. Cor did much of the same earlier. And now with Regis’ Shield standing in front of him with a garter belt, heels and stockings, a feeling of anticipation struck through Cor. This is what they were going to do; fight in lingerie. He could almost hear his heartbeat as Clarus makes his way to pick up a practice polearm, spinning it in hand to test its weight and efficiency. Cor walked over, ignorant to Clarus's stare, to choose a mid-size dagger, throwing it between his hands to get the feel and weight of it before deciding it would be a good weapon to start out with.

Clarus holds the polearm to his side before going into a resting stance. He taps it a couple of times to the ground, nodding his head at Cor as he asks, “You ready?”

Cor grins, finally getting to what he had been looking forward to all day. “Always,” he says as he makes the first move. He shifts to strike at the side Clarus left defenseless and was not surprised when the man changed his stance to block the move. The dagger swipes once more and Clarus defends the motion with ease. 

In a fight with a polearm versus a dagger, Cor thinks, most people would say that the polearm has the advantage. This he agrees with to a degree. The polearm does have the advantage of reach and added defense. The opposite could be said of the dagger, which brings the fighter within short range of the enemy and leaves them vulnerable to attack. This grants the wielder for a wider range of motion and a faster attack pattern. Cor knows that a dual dagger set would have made this fight a little bit easier, but a challenge is a challenge. He runs all the options of where to strike next in his head before he chooses and goes with it.

Cor doesn't hesitate with his strike and isn't surprised with the easy block Clarus reciprocates with. He keeps his offensive tight, trying to see if there is an opening he could exploit. He anticipates Clarus's offensive strike back and knows it's bound to happen sooner or later.

What he doesn't expect is his heel slipping on the surface; his body quickly becoming off center as he falls towards the ground. Instead of falling hard, allows his body to fall, throwing the dagger away from them as he catches himself. He can already tell that his elbow will bruise, but he ignores the sharp pain of impact as he sweeps his leg to trip up his opponent. 

Clarus moves with swift precision. He's able to block Cor’s foot with the polearm staff, but the move makes him unbalanced as well. In all of his years, Cor has never imagined seeing Clarus slip and fall on his ass, but in this moment he wouldn't give anyone anything to replace this momentous occasion. He couldn't help but laugh. The look of shock on Clarus's face was extraordinary.

“Would that be considered my point?” Cor asked amidst his laughter. 

Clarus huffed out a breath of amusement. “ _Half_. I say we continue to five points this evening or we’ll be here all night.”

Standing back up without much issue, Cor holds out his hand for Clarus. “Fair enough. Though staying here all night wouldn't be a bad way to spend the evening.”

The grip on Cor’s hand tightens just a bit as Clarus pulls himself up. Their heels making loud clacking noises as they steady themselves. “Cor, if I didn’t know any better I’d say that you were making a pass at me.”

“With all due respect, Clarus, I think our attire would be a better tip off to that end. Wouldn’t you say?”

Clarus shrugs, turning to put the polearm back on the weapons rack. Cor couldn’t help but watch the mesmerizing saunter, moving as smooth as silk, step by step towards the rack. He could feel himself get a little wound up, anticipating the closeness of hand to hand combat. Clarus definitely seemed to have gotten used to the heels sooner than Cor had expected, and to be fair, so had he. 

And when Clarus turns to face him, as confident as ever, Cor is ready. He decides not to wait, wanting to feel the burn of tension in his body and the heat of fighting hand to hand. He’s eager to get that fighting high, the rush of adrenaline, the feeling of being alive. He throws a fist at Clarus, again, unsurprised when his movement is blocked. He the feels the strength throughout his forearm as Clarus holds his hand steady. With a huff, they separate.

As skilled as Cor is with hand to hand combat, he finds himself lacking when measuring up to Clarus. After one particularly strong hit in the torso, Cor could feel himself stagger. Clarus takes the opportunity to wrap an arm around Cor’s back, gripping him at the waist. He knows what’s about to come and tries to think of a way out of it. When Clarus's leg makes the move to reach the underside of Cor’s thigh, Cor knows he’s sunk and braces for impact. The world flips over, as he’s thrown to the ground in one smooth motion.

Clarus, having him pinned, doesn’t move right away, breathing heavily. Cor could hear his own heartbeat in his head, turning it towards Clarus only to seem the man staring right back at him.

“I claim that point.”

There was a pause before Cor let out a loud laugh. “Fuck you, Clarus.” He said with a smile as he turned to stare at the ceiling. At this rate they were going to spend more time on the floor rather than fighting. 

“Cor.” 

“Yes, Clarus.”

“Come over here.”

Cor sits up and scoots himself towards Clarus, who waits until he’s close enough to grip the front of his shirt to pull him into an abrupt kiss. Cor feels his body freeze up in surprise before relaxing in order to reciprocate. It was a firm, closed mouth kiss. He could feel Clarus's other hand brush up, holding the arm Cor was leaning on.

It’s Cor that leans back, a smile on his lips, breathing just a bit heavily. Clarus lets out a low rumble of a laugh, taking the hand that had gripped Cor’s shirt around to lazily stroke the back of Cor’s neck.

“How many years has it been?” Clarus murmurs against Cor lips. Truth be told, it has been a long time. Most likely over 5 years since they last had any sort of time with just the two of them alone. Things were too uncertain in this time and their paths, no matter how close they were to each other within the Citadel, didn’t cross often.

Cor responds with a simple, “Too long.” He closes in to bite Clarus's lower lip before going in for a slow, needy kiss reveling in the way the other man’s groan reverberates in his chest. He leans closer, moving to position himself on top of Clarus. He can feel Clarus's free hand come to rest against his hip, fingers dipping under the garter belt, trapping each fingertip in between lace and skin. Each digit digging to into his skin, causing Cor to groan into Clarus's mouth. 

He decides to retaliate by grinding his hips down onto the other’s crotch.

Clarus breaks their kiss with a gasp of “fucking hell” murmured against Cor’s mouth. Cor takes this opportunity to bite back, taking Clarus's lip between his teeth while grinding his hips down once again.

He likes it rough, Cor remembers as he feels Clarus's hips meet his in a grind that makes him gasp out loud. Instead, he licks Clarus's lip and kisses him once again. It was a deep, lingering kiss that made him feel extremely warm from the inside out. Clarus responds in kind, humming with a satisfied laughter that made Cor’s stomach drop with a sort of affection that he rarely felt. It’s not often that he gets this sort of attention. He will sometimes get the invites, the knowing and interested looks, but he finds himself gravitating to the same people he had in his youth. Clarus being one of them, their King being another. 

Cor is surprised when he feels his hips lifting from the ground. The sound of heels clacking notifies him that Clarus has, in one swift movement, adjusted himself so he could lift his pelvis up, his crotch pushing right up against Cor’s ass. Cor, testing this position, grinds one more time and Clarus groans into his mouth, the height not budging an inch. Cor suddenly wants to see the muscles in Clarus's legs straining to keep him up, the added height of the heels making it all the more pronounced. He imagines them wrapped in the stockings, the fabric sheer in the light, accentuating each line of strained muscle and in his thoughts he pushes grinds down once more. This time, Clarus moves his own hips up to meet the motion, hissing into Cor’s mouth with the contact.

“Cor,” The man in question doesn’t move back in to continue their kiss. Instead, he leans down in making sure there is an inch of space between them. Just enough to tease. Cor waits for Clarus to continue; the irrational side of his mind taking over his thoughts, wondering why they don’t do this more often and why it had taken so long to get to this point. He doesn’t dwell on those thoughts though, he knows the whys and wherefores. There’s a light kiss on his lips, as if Clarus could see that his mind was racing and he was pulling him back into the moment. “Cor, you’re going to keep this garter on.” There is a sudden tug at the piece of lingerie, Clarus brings his other hand to the other side of Cor’s hips and slips it under the garter. Both of hands essentially trapped under the garment, he feels Clarus's grip tighten, then purposefully push Cor down on his crotch. Clarus's voice catches as he breathes out, “You look good in lace.” 

Cor continues the motion, enjoying the extra pressure on his hips. There’s the wonderful feeling of the garter belt straining against his waist as the straps dig into his thighs just ever so slightly; he wonders what it’d be like wearing something like this a bit more often. Especially if it elicits this type of reaction out of others. 

Cor leans down, his hands holding the sides Clarus's face as he kisses him deeply. Cor wants to say something back, but he’s becoming too concerned with the fact that Clarus's hands have now dipped into the waistband of his underwear, gripping his ass that told him he would be feeling this for days. He could feel himself getting hard, his crotch grinding forward as Clarus kept at pushing up from behind.

That man’s thighs must be burning at this point.

That’s when Clarus broke their kiss with a bite. He whispered, “This enough?”

Cor willed himself to keep from saying, “No.” It was bad enough they were basically dry humping in the middle of the training room, but he wanted to go further. To turn Clarus around in his heels, drag his nails down the muscles of his back as he fucked him from behind. Clarus, he knows, would be willing, but he had also been right. It had been far too long. Right now, Cor craved this closeness and he wasn’t averse to this happening again. Hopefully sooner rather than later.

He replies with a growl, “For now, yes.”

Clarus huffs a laugh, his hands moving from the back towards his front, lightly fingering Cor’s crotch through the silk of his underwear. Cor gasps into Clarus's mouth, noticing how Clarus doesn’t go further than the light touches and dragging of fingernails over thin cloth. He’s teasing and it’s driving Cor mad. A few more touches and then it’s gone; Cor feels himself suddenly wanting and needing that touch once again. He instead tries to concentrate on the burn of Clarus's hand moving back to grip his ass only to feel that heat of Clarus's crotch grinding into him. 

He could feel Clarus's dick twitch underneath him, his breathing becoming more erratic as his hips ground at less and less of a consistent pace. Cor bites Clarus's lips muttering, “You better take care of me after this.” Clarus nips back as Cor moves away, moving his hands to Clarus's shoulders and sitting up just enough to put more pressure onto Clarus's rutting motions. He feels Clarus tense up from under his body and a sigh of relief with what Cor figured was his release.

Clarus looks so sated, so relaxed that Cor almost missed the tug against his hips. “Come closer,” Clarus said, tugging just a bit harder. Cor moves closer towards Clarus's head, keeping his position over the other man’s torso. It took Cor a second to know what Clarus wanted to do, but once he figured it out he moved so his crotch was right before Clarus's awaiting mouth.

“Do you know how good you look?” Clarus mutters against his cloth covered erection. “Regis would kill to see you like this.”

Cor groans. The heat of Clarus's words and the light touch of his lips was such a welcome feeling. “You think he’d just want to see me?” Cor breathes, closing his eyes for just a second to focus on the feeling before taking in the view of Clarus's tongue lapping lightly at his dick through his underwear.

“ _Fuck_ , he’d watch us both.” Clarus mutters as he nips through the fabric. Cor groaned at both the action and the thought of Regis watching them both as they are right now. He looks down and watches as Clarus nips again and mouths against his dick, “I want to suck you off.” 

Cor moans as he adjusts his underwear to allow Clarus free reign of his own erection. He feels relief just for a moment before the warmth of Clarus's mouth engulfs him. He hears himself croak out, “ _Clarus_ ” as the man under him runs his tongue beneath the underside of his erection. Cor could barely think. The ministrations of Clarus's tongue were working him into a frenzy as he became more as more vocal the closer to the edge he became.

Clarus's hand keeps Cor’s hips in place, keeping him from bucking into his mouth. It’s the slow, teasing scrape of teeth teeth that makes him come. Clarus hums around him, taking in and swallowing all that Cor could give. Clarus let’s him go with one last lick and Cor adjusts himself, moving backbit in order to rest on top of the other.

“Gods, I missed having you in my mouth.”

Cor snorts, he doesn’t go for sentimental, but he brings his hand up to Clarus's cheek and pats it. “All the more I missed you getting me off.” He pauses for a moment and adds, “This was good, Clarus.” 

A tug at his hips reminds Cor of the garter belt and the fingers that Clarus has nestled in it. “You better be wearing this more often. Sparring or not.”

“Only if you agree to do the same.”

**Author's Note:**

> .... and then they proceeded to forget they were competing for points.


End file.
